


Playing Cupid

by Alethia



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Dating, Embarrassment, Episode Related, F/M, Matchmaking, Partying, Porn, Secret Crush, Trolling, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 12:54:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18811318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/pseuds/Alethia
Summary: Philippa looked at her with a knowing smirk. "Youlikeyour new captain," she said, tone full of innuendo.Michaelfroze, thrown that Philippa had seen right through her, gripped by that awful feeling of being caught out. "Captain Pike has a sterling reputation," she said, impassive."His reputation isn't the part of him you're interested in," Philippa shot back, eyes sliding down Michael's frame, a goad.





	Playing Cupid

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place during 2.05 "Saints of Imperfection" and includes scenes from that, while also expanding upon them and others. Again, I really like parties. Also posted [here](https://alethia.dreamwidth.org/1030979.html).

Tilly had disappeared, Spock was still missing—sans his shuttle—and now, because Starfleet Command had apparently _lost all sense_ , Leland was forcing Pike to release Philippa, despite her highly suspicious behavior. 

Michael tried her best to stow her irritation, knowing that these politics were far above her. Still, the corners of her lips turned up a little at Pike's comment about doing a favor for a friend. At least he could get in a parting shot. 

Not that it mattered as Philippa was still free to go, Michael escorting her onto the turbolift, its doors sealing them in. Philippa looked at her with a knowing smirk. "You _like_ your new captain," she said, tone full of innuendo. 

Michael _froze_ , thrown that Philippa had seen right through her, gripped by that awful feeling of being caught out. "Captain Pike has a sterling reputation," she said, impassive. 

"His reputation isn't the part of him you're interested in," Philippa shot back, eyes sliding down Michael's frame, a goad. 

Something _pulsed_ in Michael, alarmed at the idea that Philippa could read her so well, especially thoughts she'd been...carefully avoiding. After all, there was no point in dwelling on the interest her captain stirred, the way she felt awake in his presence, senses heightened. It was thoroughly inappropriate and better ignored. 

Rather than getting defensive, Michael turned it around on Philippa: "You just want to get under my skin."

"Yes, and you want to get under his clothes. Don't get me wrong: I support it. Maybe a little sexual gratification will lighten you up."

"I don't need lightening," Michael bit out, deeply uncomfortable with Philippa speculating about her sex life. But that in itself was likely intentional; she was always working an angle. 

Philippa scoffed, like that was so ridiculous it didn't even merit a response. "You want him? Take him. Men are simple, Michael. Just move close, get in his space," she said, turning and stepping near, a hairsbreadth from Michael's shoulder. "Let him _feel_ you. It'll put the thought in his head without you ever saying a word. Men like it better when they think it's their idea, anyway."

Michael regarded her calmly, not at all fazed by her proximity. "Even if it weren't inappropriate, that's terrible advice." 

Philippa flashed her a condescending look and stepped back, all haughty Empress again. "Better than pining like some pathetic puppy."

"I am not pining."

"Okay," Philippa agreed, her mild tone its own kind of needling. Michael set her jaw, refusing to engage in it. Philippa just wanted to get a rise out of her. 

But apparently she wasn't done: "You know, I entertained my Captain Pike once," she mused, a sensually-pleased note to her voice conveying exactly what 'entertaining' meant. 

Michael stiffened, quite sure she didn't want to hear this. 

Philippa caught her gaze again, knowing. "He was _glorious_ ," she breathed, reverent, making Michael want to shift uncomfortably. She stayed perfectly still. "I was actually disappointed when I heard Kirk skewered him like a pig. But the strong rise."

Michael shook her head. "Did you just spend all your time killing and screwing your way through your galaxy?" 

" _Obviously_ ," Philippa said, like Michael was slow for even asking. "You can imagine how bored I am, stuck with all you honor-bound prudes. My Michael would've had Pike on his knees within an hour of meeting him. She knew to take what she wanted." Something in Michael flared as that image flashed through her mind, Pike on his knees, looking up at her, blue eyes hot. 

Philippa flicked a knowing look at Michael as the turbolift slowed. "And I can't even have fun with anyone because I have to pretend. Like today."

The doors opened and Philippa walked out, turning back to Michael as they started down the hall. "Your captain doesn't know where I'm really from." 

Michael sighed internally; if Philippa had to be free, she couldn't get off this ship fast enough. 

***

"Call me provincial, but I prefer people whose truth I can take at face value. So what truth are you keeping from me?" Pike asked, the faint air of his disapproval for once focused on her. 

"Sir?" Michael asked.

He shook his head. "That moment you saw Tyler. The moment that you had your phaser on Georgiou. I don't know you very well, but I know you well enough." 

As Pike stared her down, that seductive warmth pooled inside her, Michael impressed by his mind, the way he put all the pieces together. Part of her wanted to tell him _everything_. 

Michael stepped in close, voice lowering. "It's a longer conversation, Captain. And I ask that you bear with me until a more appropriate time."

"Done," he said instantly, implicit trust shining in his eyes. "Just don't make me chase after you for the information."

Something _pulsed_ in Michael at that faith. "Thank you, sir."

Pike shot her another look, knowing something was up but not pushing, and Michael abruptly realized how _close_ they were. She'd unintentionally done exactly what Philippa said, stepping _into_ his space. Thankfully, Pike walked away before he clocked her...awareness.

Michael took a moment to compose herself before going to talk to Ash. 

***

It _was_ good to see Ash...right up until he started dodging the most basic questions, this time with the Starfleet-mandated excuse of 'that's classified.' At that point, the good feelings evaporated and Michael was reminded, once again, of how things ended. 

She couldn't help but flash back to that day, to the emptiness in his eyes as his hands wrapped around her throat. Her heart breaking all the while. 

Or worse, days later, Ash calling her out for breaking off their relationship, turning it around on her, like she was the coward. And he didn't even have the excuse of Voq's presence then. That was all him.

She shook it off, trying to focus on the present, on Spock, on what she needed to do. 

But it lingered. 

***

Pike wasn't happy with the plan to save Tilly—letting half the ship get consumed while they searched for her—and he wasn't quiet about it. "Deeply insane" wasn't entirely unfair.

But as he had Bryce open a ship-wide channel, Michael knew, she just _knew_ , he would do the right thing. He was the kind of man they could trust.

"Starfleet is a promise. 'I give my life for you, you give your life for me. And nobody gets left behind.' Ensign Sylvia Tilly is out there and she has every right to expect us. We keep our promises." 

As Pike explained to the crew why he was putting all their lives on the line to save one person, Michael felt that traitorous heat within her again, all mixed up with the pride she felt at serving with someone so principled. 

It felt...base. Wrong somehow, like it lessened what he was to them. To her. 

But it wouldn't stop. 

***

"Here she is," Pike said as Michael walked in—

To find the ghostly holo of Philippa waiting, smirk firmly in place. "Michael. You feeling lighter?"

Michael didn't deign to respond. She raised an eyebrow at Pike, who sent her an exasperated look. "Captain Georgiou wanted to relay a message to the both of us."

"Yes, but first, did I hear that you turned _down_ the opportunity to have me as your liaison? Why, Captain, I'm hurt."

"Serving as a lowly liaison is far beneath a captain of your stature," Pike said, ever diplomatic. 

Philippa's smile gleamed as she looked to Michael. "Or perhaps Michael missed having Tyler in her bed."

Embarrassment _seized_ Michael's insides as she felt Pike's eyes land on her, surprised by that information. Michael knew that Philippa was just bringing up her sex life in front of Pike as a way to needle her, but dammit if it wasn't _effective_. 

Michael regarded Philippa evenly. "Not at all. Attempted murder tends to bring an end to things."

"For you, maybe," Philippa said, tone heavily implying that she considered it foreplay. 

"Was there a point to this call, Captain?" Pike asked, polite and yet _sharp_. He didn't like something he'd just learned.

"Yes. Leland relayed your conversation with Admiral Cornwell. Now that we have a new understanding, Section 31 wants it clear that any withholding of information about Spock will not be tolerated."

"That policy goes both ways, I'm sure," Pike said, firm. 

"Why, of course. But owing to the emotional attachment from both of you, we felt it necessary to reiterate."

"Thank you for that not-at-all-insulting message," Pike shot back, making Michael smile a little and look down. 

Philippa _mmmed_ , amused. "Always happy to help uphold the professionalism of Starfleet," she said, the irony just dripping. She seemed ready sign off, when she paused. "Oh, Captain, since you're such a shining moral light for us all, I did have a question for you."

"Dare I even ask," he said, dry. 

"Tell me, what do you think of captains having relationships with their direct subordinates?"

Michael's eyes widened as she stared at Philippa, not even believing the gall.

But no, she did believe it. This was _classic_ Terran Emperor. 

A furtive glance at Pike showed him puzzled, trying to figure out Philippa's angle. "Starfleet stays out of its officers' bedrooms, you know that. As long as there's no abuse of power, it's fine. Why do you ask? Have your eye on someone?"

"Hardly. Besides, I've never had a problem with abuse of power. It is good to know our resident saint's take on it, though. Ta," she said, then ended the call. 

Pike blinked. "Well, that could be interpreted two very different ways."

"Yes, either her relationships have been so above-board she's never encountered abuse of power—"

"Or she's all for it. Why is it that I think she truly meant the latter," he said, not a question, looking to Michael keenly, his words echoing in her mind. _Don't make me chase after you for the information._

Well, she had asked for a more appropriate time. 

"Permission to speak off the record, sir?"

Pike nodded to her slowly. "Yes, I think that would be wise."

"That's not our Philippa Georgiou," Michael said bluntly. 

Understanding landed on Pike, getting it instantly. "...she's Terran. Like Lorca."

Michael nodded, again impressed by the steel trap that was his mind. "The Terran _Emperor_ , to be exact. The real Captain Georgiou was killed by T'Kuvma before I killed him."

Pike closed his eyes, grief flashing across his face for an instant before he shuttered it and looked back to her. "I'm sorry. That must have been hard."

Something trembled in Michael at that. Of course he would think of the human cost first. Michael swallowed her endless grief, her kneejerk response to him, just all of it. "It was."

Pike nodded, like he got it. He sat forward, moving them away from the emotional topic with a wave of his hand. "And Tyler?"

Michael stiffened a little, thrown. She didn't want to talk about Ash. "What about him?"

"Georgiou didn't bring him up for no reason. She was making a point," he said, clever like he always was, his eyes asking her to share. 

Michael tilted her head. "Philippa raised my Terran counterpart like her own daughter. She...likes to provoke me." Pike tilted his head, studying her, like he sensed that wasn't all of it. 

Thankfully, he didn't push. "Well, let's hope some other shiny object captures her interest and she stops looking at us."

Michael smiled a little, once again grateful for how he never _pushed_. "Yes, sir."

"Thank you for telling me, Commander."

Michael took it as a dismissal and started for the door. Before she could get there, Pike stopped her with, "Michael." She looked back, curious at the personal note to it. 

"You called him a good man," Pike said, like he couldn't fathom it. 

"Ash Tyler is a good man."

Pike shook his head. "...he tried to kill you." He said it like that was _it_ , a dealbreaker, and realization landed on Michael. _This_ was what he hadn't liked learning. 

Well, she supposed hearing that your liaison tried to kill another of your officers would be cause for concern. 

Still, she shrugged. "It's more nuanced than that."

Pike looked at her, sympathetic. "Look, I get that it's emotional, and I mean no disrespect here, but are you sure that analysis isn't borne of ego?"

Michael blinked. "I don't follow."

"Meaning that if Ash Tyler's a good man then Michael Burnham didn't fall for a monster." Spoken by someone else that might have seemed harsh, but Pike's words were filled with nothing but compassion. 

She smiled, bitter. "No, I absolutely fell for a monster. And people died because of it," she said, the knowledge still weighing heavily on her, even if they had gotten mind-bendingly lucky to somehow rescue Culber. 

It struck Pike, his eyes widening. "I didn't mean—"

"I know," she said, soft. "But I also know my judgment has been compromised. You needn't worry about me turning a blind eye, sir. I'm quite clear on not letting my personal feelings get in the way anymore."

Pike simply stared at her, something she didn't understand flickering through his expression. After a moment, he nodded. "Good to know."

With another nod, she walked out. 

***

Later, after Tilly had taken a shower and shaken off the last of the terror, she looked to Michael from her bed, curious. "So what's been going on since I've been away? Who dumped who? Who's sleeping with who? Come on, tell me everything. Distract me."

Michael smiled, indulgent. "I would if I knew anything. That's your area of expertise."

Tilly flopped back on her bed, long-suffering. "Michael, you gotta hold down the fort."

Michael tilted her head, one thought still plaguing her. "Well, I did learn one thing."

Tilly sat up instantly. "Oh, my god, you're totally bothered by it. _What_ ," she said in the tone of _tell me now_. 

"Apparently Emperor Georgiou once had a...dalliance with the Terran Pike."

Tilly blinked rapidly, several times. "Okay, that's hot."

" _Tilly_."

"Oh, come on, it is! Hot in a totally evil, terrifyingly debauched kinda way, but still hot. I mean, _look_ at Pike, you have eyes." She paused then, considering. "I kinda can't picture him evil, though. Like, does not compute."

"Apparently he wasn't very good at it," Michael said idly. Off Tilly's questioning look: "He got killed."

"Yeah, and made a big enough impression on Georgiou that she mentioned his bedroom skills. That's kinda impressive." Tilly thought about it for a moment, frowning again. "Wait, why _did_ she mention it?"

"Does Georgiou need an excuse to brag?"

"No, but was it a non sequitur? How'd it even come up?"

Michael shifted at how close this was getting to uncomfortable territory. Tilly clocked it, seeming delighted. "This just gets better and better. Spill."

"She seems to be under the impression that I'm—that I—" Michael broke off, not sure how to say it. She wasn't sure if she _wanted_ to say it. 

"Oh, she figured out you have a crush on him," Tilly said, like this was old news. 

Michael simply stared. 

Tilly scoffed. "What, like it's a secret."

Michael's eyes widened, but Tilly instantly held out her hands, placating. "No, kidding, it's totally a secret, I swear. Except, you know, me. I see things. Besides, it's cute."

"I don't have a—"

"Babe," Tilly said, tone calling _worlds_ of bullshit. 

Michael changed tracks. "It doesn't matter."

"Apparently Georgiou disagrees. What, was she just rubbing your face in it?"

"She told me I should...take him," Michael said carefully. 

Tilly's eyes widened. "Now there's an image," she muttered. Then she considered. "Do you think it's a bad sign that I agree with the Terran Emperor?"

" _Yes_ ," Michael said emphatically.

"Disagree. Just because she's evil doesn't mean she's wrong all the time. Besides, I think everybody can get on board with getting you laid."

"Okay, let's stop talking about this."

"Sex, Michael. It's glorious. I think you've forgotten," Tilly intoned.

Thankfully, their door chime rang then, pulling Tilly's focus. "Come in," she called. 

Detmer and Owo walked in, shooting relieved smiles at Tilly as they moved to her. "I'm so glad you're okay," Detmer said, hugging Tilly as Owo nodded. "We were gonna fight Pike if he didn't agree to let us come get you."

Tilly hugged Owo next, smiling gratefully. "Thank you, even if I don't want you getting court martialed because of me."

"Like that'd stop us," Detmer said. 

Tilly got a little misty-eyed, waving a hand in front of her face. "Don't make me cry again, guys, I'm doing that too much."

"Then we bring the perfect news," Owo said with a grin.

Michael's stomach rolled. "What?" she asked, having a bad feeling about this. 

"We're throwing you a welcome back party," Detmer enthused, looking from Tilly to Michael. "Everyone's coming."

Michael sighed internally. "When?" she asked. 

"Oh, _now_ ," Owo said, grabbing hold of Tilly's hand. 

"What?! I'm not even dressed," Tilly said, hand going to her wet hair. 

"We will allow you to put on a dress," Detmer said magnanimously. "You, too, Michael."

"I don't think—"

"Fine, you can wear your uniform," Owo said, making it clear in a look that her attendance was not optional. Michael held up her hands, giving in, which got twin smiles from Detmer and Owo. 

Tilly clocked it, too, grinning a little, her spark coming back at the two of them brow-beating Michael. She looked to them, innocent: "I mean, if you insist on celebrating me, who am I to argue?"

***

Michael stayed at the edges of the crowds, moving through them quietly, overhearing snippets of conversation here and there. It was actually informative, like a little window onto various dramas, but staying out of the fray. Just as Michael liked it. 

Despite her best intentions, she found herself in Pike's orbit, the captain getting a fresh drink from the bar, taking a sip before spotting something that captured his interest. 

"Oh, I know that look," Pike said, fondness in his voice. Michael looked over to find Rhys nearby at the bar, hunched over his own drink and staring longingly at—

Tilly? She was off in a circle of friends, seemingly acting out her first moments on the mycelial plane, and Rhys was definitely down that he wasn't a part of it. 

Rhys stiffened, shifting his eyes away, but it was too late. Pike met Michael's eyes, confirming what he'd seen, small smile hovering at the corners of his mouth. Then he looked back to Rhys as he approached. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. You should go for it."

Michael drew closer, intrigued by this encouraging Pike, collar loosened, flush in his cheeks from the drink in his hand. 

Rhys smiled, but it was tight with some kind of unhappiness. "Kinda missed the boat on that one."

Pike shook his head. "Love is worth the risk, believe me."

"No, I know. It's just..." Rhys trailed off, shifting uncomfortably. Michael frowned at him, confused.

Not Pike. His expression _cleared_. "You didn't."

Rhys winced. Michael looked between them, not understanding. "Didn't what?"

"We might have had a night that ended...poorly," Rhys admitted, regret all over his face. 

Michael frowned. Tilly had never mentioned that...and Tilly mentioned everything. In fact, Tilly didn't talk about Rhys much at all. "Maybe for you, but perhaps it wasn't the same for her," she offered, trying to be positive. 

Pike was studying Rhys like he understood this story on a gut level, had maybe even lived this story. "You snuck out, didn't you?" When Rhys didn't contradict him, Pike frowned, faint disappointment settling around him. "And you thought this would end well for you?"

Rhys just shook his head once, like he was still kicking himself. 

"To be fair, leaving after a casual encounter might help avoid any awkwardness," Michael offered reasonably. 

Pike turned to her, face completely blank yet still somehow conveying _thank you for your help here_. He looked back to Rhys. "As understandable as that is coming from someone raised on Vulcan, you don't have that excuse, Rhys. A bang and bail is utterly beneath you."

"There's a _name_ for it?" Michael asked, incredulous. 

"There's a name for everything," Pike said, offhand, still focused on Rhys. 

"How did I end up in this conversation?" Rhys lamented. 

"Doesn't matter, we're doing this. Talk to us, Rhys. You're clearly not over it, so what happened?"

"I panicked, okay? I liked her and we were drunk and it was unexpected and I panicked. Not my proudest moment."

"What happened after that?" Michael asked, curious, still surprised Tilly had never mentioned it. This seemed like something she would have mentioned, especially with how she kept going on about the glories of sex. 

Then again, maybe _this_ sex wasn't so glorious. 

Rhys shrugged, a little confused. "Kind of nothing? We just moved on."

Pike made a thoughtful noise. "For all you know, she might think you don't remember. How drunk were you?"

"Not _that_ drunk," Rhys said, dry, in a tone that Michael didn't understand.

But Pike _did_ , brief amusement flaring as he tilted his head in acknowledgment. Then he sobered. "You need to talk to her about it."

Rhys' face fell, his reticence clear. Pike clocked it, softening, but he didn't back down. "It's your choice, of course, but if you want anything more, you're going to have to resolve it."

Rhys nodded, accepting that. "I just need to think." 

Pike backed off then, nodding. As they watched Rhys head away, shoulders hunched, Michael turned to Pike, curious. "I thought captains were supposed to be above the affairs of their crew."

He shrugged. "Everybody has a different style. I figure, we're in the shit so often, we need to be reaching for each other when we can. Otherwise, what's the point?"

"But what happens when reaching for each other leads to heartbreak?" she asked, the words spilling out before she had a chance to think them through. 

Pike's eyes softened, like he understood exactly where that came from. Hell, given the revelations about Tyler, he probably did. "It's a risk, I acknowledge, and everyone must decide for themselves. For me...the beauty outweighs the potential loss."

Michael met his eyes, the moment stretching with some unspoken tension she didn't understand. 

"That's an optimistic view," she finally said, low. 

"Guilty as charged," he murmured. Something about it struck her, some kind of pull there that she wanted to give in to, that _interest_ stirring again, bright and insistent.

Instead Michael smiled, tight. "I'll let you get back to your matchmaking, then. Excuse me, sir."

Oddly shaken, Michael walked away, trying to wrangle the uneasiness in her gut. 

***

Later into the night, and deeper into drinks, people were getting a little more exuberant, a little more open. Michael took it in, quiet, still nursing the one polite drink she'd accepted as Tilly held court, now with Owo, Detmer, and Pike looking on, amused.

"Oh, my god, my high school boyfriend was the _worst_ ," Tilly said to their little group, clustered around one of the high tables. "Wouldn't even be seen with me."

Detmer and Owo nodded in sympathy, whereas Pike shook his head. "I hope you sent him packing."

"Eventually. I had some self-esteem stuff to work out first," she said with that devastating honesty of hers. Pike nodded, like he got that, sympathized. 

"We weren't actually allowed to date until we were of age," Owo said mournfully. "You can imagine how messed up those relationships were." The others nodded and Michael found herself marveling... _how_ had they gotten onto this topic?

Tilly looked to Detmer, nudging her. "Spill."

Detmer held out her hands, almost apologetic. "I dunno, high school was just normal for me. My first boyfriend was nice. I'm boring, I guess."

"Count yourself lucky." Then Tilly turned to Pike. She scoffed and waved a hand at his face dismissively. "Given all this, I bet I know what your early romance life looked like." 

The corner of Pike's mouth lifted. "What does that mean?"

"Like you don't know. What was it—sports star, couldn't keep the girls away, probably lost your virginity on prom night in some romantic candlelit bedroom somewhere."

Pike flicked his eyes away, almost bashful, but he smiled a little. "More like a romantic picnic, but close enough."

"The curse of being a hot dude, we all feel terrible for you," Tilly shot back, getting a bark of laughter from him. 

"What about you, Michael?" Detmer asked, leaning against the table casually. 

Michael smiled a little. "Oh, I didn't engage in any romantic entanglements on Vulcan. I was considered a substandard match and had no interest in being a curiosity."

The silence that followed was almost palpable. Michael reviewed what she said, but no, that was all accurate. 

Pike swallowed the rest of his drink and set it down on the table with a precise click. "Substandard," he said slowly, face now blank, something curious, but also dangerous in his voice. 

"As a non-telepath I couldn't take part in the type of bonds my peers formed amongst themselves. Arranging a marriage for me was out of the question. And since that's what Vulcans' romantic lives are oriented around, mine was essentially nonexistent."

Something about the group turned awkward then, though Michael couldn't understand why. All the information she relayed had been factual. But she also knew that she had soured the mood somehow, so she tried to fix it: "It was perfectly acceptable. It gave me more time for my studies."

Tilly shook her head, drunk and fuzzy with it. "Well, that is just _horrifying_ ," she said brightly.

Owo stepped in then, nodding across the room. "Ooh, the dart board opened up."

"Dibs on first game," Tilly called, instantly distracted. She walked off toward the board, Owo and Detmer following, laughing. 

Michael watched them go, puzzled. She felt Pike step up next to her and turned to look at him. "I ruined that, didn't I?"

"'Ruined' is a strong word," he said, a little contemplative. "The alcohol doesn't help, I'm sure."

"Right." Michael frowned a little, hating how her upbringing always reared up in unexpected ways, separating her from her peers. Amanda always taught her it was a strength, to embrace it, but times like these, she felt deficient. 

"I am sorry," Pike said after a moment.

"Sorry?" Michael asked, not understanding. 

"You deserved better than that." With that, he tipped his head to her and walked off. 

***

Having spent a respectable amount of time at the party, Michael stepped into the turbolift to leave, two ensigns from tactical stumbling in after her, drunk and giggling. She indicated her floor, but they didn't follow suit, falling against each other as the turbolift started up, making out messily. 

Michael shifted, unsure what to do. It was clearly unprofessional—the sound of their mouths was downright _obscene_ —but they weren't technically in her chain of command. Before she could decide, the turbolift slowed, opening on—

Pike, color still high in his cheeks, clearly also on his way from the party. He raised an eyebrow at the two ensigns, who hadn't stopped, then looked to Michael. She widened her eyes, a wordless _help me_ that he seemed to read perfectly.

"All right, you two, take it somewhere private," he said in his captain's voice, the ensigns jumping apart like a phaser blast had gone off between them. They took in the captain, eyes widening almost comically. 

"Sorry—sorry, Captain," they said, ducking out of the turbolift, giggling in drunken embarrassment this time. 

" _Thank you_ ," Michael said with relief as Pike stepped on and the doors closed. "I didn't know what to _do_."

"I find the dad voice works, even on people not in your chain of command," he said, amused. He shook his head. "Oh, for the days of not keeping your hands off each other."

Michael scoffed. "Why would you want that?"

Pike looked at her like she'd given something away there. "The feeling, Michael," he said quietly. "Being just this side of out of control. Nothing like it."

She shook her head, unable to fathom wanting that. "Intimacy should be private. This was just...unseemly," she said, waving to where the two ensigns had been fused together. 

Pike looked at her, considering, as the turbolift slowed and opened on his floor. "Join me for a drink?" he asked, light. 

Michael blinked, surprised at the change in topic. She was suddenly aware that she was alone with the captain, that she'd already had a drink, as had he—more than one—and that further time spent in his presence was...ill-advised.

So she smiled and tilted her head in apology. "I'm tired."

Pike nodded easily. "Another time." He tipped his head respectfully, then walked out.

***

"Wait a minute, he asked you for a drink and you turned him _down_?" Tilly said the next morning, something horrified in her voice. 

Michael furrowed her brow, not understanding. "I'd already had enough."

"You were talking about how intimacy should be in private and then he asked you to come drink with him _in private_ ," Tilly said, looking at Michael obviously. 

Then it clicked, heat sweeping through her at the implication. "You think he was..."

"Pike's smooth, I'll give him that," Tilly said, like she was a little impressed. 

"Hang on, it didn't feel like that at all," Michael protested. There had been nothing...untoward about the offer. 

"Well, no, it wouldn't have. He wouldn't want to scare you off after all the talk of propriety. Which, by the way, kind of a turn-off."

Michael stiffened. Tilly clocked it, going a little apologetic. "Hey, come on. I'm just saying, going all schoolmarm on the guy you're trying to get sexy with doesn't exactly scream 'do me now.'"

"I am not trying to—" Michael cut herself off, not needing to put it into those words. 

" _Why not_?" Tilly shot back, mind-boggled. "Lord, break me off a piece of that. I bet he loves getting on his knees. He seems like the type." Michael flushed as that image flashed before her again, Pike looking up at her from between her thighs, blue eyes gleaming. 

Michael searched for the words to put to the feeling inside her: "It's not...appropriate," she said finally. 

"As someone who recently thought she was gonna die in magical mushroom land, seize the day and let your captain eat you out, Michael. You'll thank me later."

"You weren't going to die," Michael said, firm, clinging to the one thing she was certain of. 

"But if I had, I'd be really sad that you didn't get some from our hotass captain when it's on offer. I mean, that's just wrong."

Michael closed her eyes, reaching for calm. "Tilly."

"Is this about Tyler?" she asked abruptly.

Michael's eyes flew open, unease landing on her. "No," she said instantly, but even she heard the defensive note to her voice. 

"You sure?" Tilly pressed, eyeing her. "I heard that he's back, playing liaison. And wow, does the captain not like him at all."

"I—wait, really?" Michael asked, thrown. She...hadn't heard that. 

"Oh, yeah, Detmer was telling me. He snapped at him on the bridge and everything. No love lost there."

Michael shook her head, surprised. "I told him he was a good man. Why would he—"

"It sounds like Tyler was being inappropriate on the bridge, plus hiding that the Section 31 ship was nearby. The captain really didn't take it well. But wait...'a good man?'" Tilly said, a note of surprise in her voice. 

"Yes," Michael said stiffly. 

"Are we talking about the same guy? Lied to you, broke your trust, accused you of using it all as an excuse to break up with him? As if attempted murder isn't an ironclad breakup reason," she added as an afterthought. 

"He...it was a bad time," Michael said.

"Don't get me wrong, I feel for the guy. I think the rest of us should absolutely extend our hand in friendship. But we shouldn't just forget everything he did."

"Oh, I can't," Michael said, voice dark. 

"So it is about Tyler," Tilly concluded, shrewd. 

Michael searched within herself, feeling the hesitance, the uncertainty, but not knowing where it came from. "I don't know," she said finally, meeting Tilly's eyes. 

Tilly came over and took her hand, nodding in encouragement. "Look, I get it. You got _tagged_. And now you're feeling something again and it's scary. But maybe it's—maybe it's time to embrace scary. It could be so good."

Something in Michael shrank back at the idea. "...I don't know if I can," she said, hating the vulnerable note to her voice. So she locked it down, pushing her emotions away, shaking her head. "It's all theoretical anyway. It's not like the captain's shown any interest in relationships, that ambiguous drink invitation notwithstanding."

"I don't know about that," Tilly said, somewhat enigmatic. "But you don't have to decide now. Just think about it. You get to choose what your life is. You can choose to be happy." She smiled again. "Now c'mon. I am also choosing to be happy. For right now, that means breakfast."

Michael laughed. 

***

They were happily digging into their breakfasts when Tilly spotted someone and made a pleased noise. Michael turned...but it was just Nhan, on her way out. Tilly gestured her over and she reversed direction, sliding into a seat with a curious smile. "Everything all right?"

Tilly nodded and leaned in close, voice low. "So what's the deal with the captain? Does he, you know, date?"

"Tilly," Michael said, something in her shying away from this. 

"Shh. I'm asking for science," Tilly shot back, unrepentant, looking to Nhan expectantly.

"We just got back from a five-year mission," she said, like that should mean something. 

Michael tried to puzzle it out. She exchanged a blank look with Tilly, which made her feel a little better. At least she wasn't being obtuse. 

Nhan smiled a little at their confusion. "You think a man like that goes celibate for five years?"

Tilly grinned. "Look at that, he does date, interesting," she said to Michael, vindicated. Then back to Nhan: "Is he seeing someone right now?"

"Not that I know of. He's very discreet, but apparently _spectacular_ in bed," Nhan said, almost sounding...envious. Michael shifted a little, her heartrate picking up even as Nhan continued: "And a serial monogamist, which is completely beyond me."

Michael clung to that, nodding. It made sense. "He values loyalty."

Nhan looked to her, raising an eyebrow. "Men usually make exceptions when it comes to their dicks."

Tilly was on another track, realization dawning. "Wait. His gorgeous, genius first officer was here for a while, right? Did they..." 

"Don't let Una hear you suggest that," Nhan warned. "He usually goes for quietly brilliant life science types, those who find beauty in the small things. He was with a xenobotanist for a while, but since they parted ways I haven't heard anything. Given that," she looked to Tilly dryly, "I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you. He's not big on robbing the cradle, either."

Tilly blinked, wide-eyed. "Wait, me? Oh, no. No no no. I mean, look, don't get me wrong, I'd ring that with bells on, but the man is beyond intimidating. I'm having performance anxiety just thinking about it."

Now it was Nhan's turn to frown. "Then why are we talking about this?"

"Tilly's rampant curiosity," Michael cut in before Tilly could say something incriminating. "Thanks for the clarification." 

Nhan nodded, taking that as a dismissal and rising to go. 

Tilly stared at Michael until Nhan was out of earshot. "I wasn't going to say anything."

"Because there's nothing to say about anything," Michael agreed, forcefully spearing her vegetarian sausage and taking a bite. 

Tilly held out her hands, acquiescing. 

Good. Glad they got that cleared up.

***

Michael was deep into sphere data when Tilly walked into the science lab holding an official-looking box. "This came for you, priority," she said, setting it down on the center console.

Michael frowned. "I wasn't expecting anything."

"Well, open it," Tilly said, looking curious herself. 

Michael unlatched it, pushing the top back, and peered inside—

To find a sparkly purple vibrator on a bed of crushed velvet, _Chris_ etched on its base.

A holo-message popped up, Philippa smirking at her: " _Hello, Michael. Since you invariably didn't follow my advice, I thought I'd send you a gift. Don't say I never did anything for you_."

With one more satisfied smirk, the message ended. Michael just stared as Tilly peered into the box. "Is that a—"

"Vibrator," Michael confirmed, embarrassment sweeping through her, doubtless Philippa's intention.

Tilly nodded. "Huh. She's really committing to this trolling thing."

"It would seem so." 

Tilly studied the vibrator, considering. "I mean, she's got good taste. This is a nice one."

Michael snapped the box closed. "Okay, that's going in the nearest trash chute."

"Hey, now," Tilly said, like she actually objected. 

Michael looked over, askance. "I'm not about to—" She cut herself off, not knowing how to phrase it in a way that wasn't _absolutely horrifying_. 

Tilly put her hands on her hips. "Michael Burnham, there is no excuse to let a good vibrator go to waste."

A sound caught their attention, both of them looking over—

To find the captain in the now-open door, eyes a little wide, clearly having heard that. Then he tilted his head, considering. "I mean, she's not wrong."

Tilly laughed aloud, then clapped her hands over her mouth. "Sorry, that's—sorry."

Michael handed the box to her. "Why don't you—"

"Yeah, I'll just—" She took the box and hurried past Pike, who stepped aside, amusement hanging around him like a palpable _thing_. 

He tracked Tilly's movements, then flicked his eyes back to Michael, considering. "Georgiou?" he guessed, way too insightful for Michael's liking. Especially given the tenor of her thoughts. 

"Is there something about becoming a captain that makes people delight in awkward situations?"

"It's part of the training," he said, deadpan. "Gotta keep people on their toes."

"Georgiou can let me sit down anytime."

Pike looked poised to pick up that thread, so Michael cut him off. "Is there something you needed, Captain?"

He subsided, vaguely disappointed by whatever quip he didn't get to land, before shaking it off and turning to work. "Yes. Any updates on that potential sighting of Spock?"

***

When Michael got back to her quarters, the box was sitting on her bed. She looked to Tilly, raising an eyebrow. "Really?"

"I looked it up and seriously, that's the good stuff. You can't just throw it away."

"It's probably poisoned. Or bugged."

Tilly flicked a dismissive hand. "Already scanned it, you're good."

"I am not—" Michael gestured illustratively, hoping Tilly got the point. "Look, if you're so impressed, consider it my gift to you."

"Oh, I already have several. Plus, I don't think I'm gonna need 'em for very much longer."

Michael shook her head. "What does that mean?"

Surprisingly, Tilly flushed a little, happiness radiating from her. "Rhys and I have been talking."

"Rhys?" Michael asked, remembering the party, Pike's defense of love. Warmth slipped through her. 

"Yeah, we had a thing, like, a year ago. It was stupid and everything got messed up, but he apologized and we worked it out. I think...I kinda like him," Tilly said, quietly pleased.

Michael softened, smiling at her obvious happiness. "That's great."

Tilly flashed another smile, then shook her hand. "But I don't mean to make this about me. All I'm saying is, if you don't want to jump into it with the captain, well...here's a no-pressure way to have the captain jump into you."

" _Tilly_."

***

A Section 31 check-in had Philippa visiting again, Michael there to greet her when she transported over. 

Philippa smirked. "Michael. How did you like my gift?"

"You ask that like there was any chance I'd use it."

"All this self-denial," Philippa said as she stepped off the transporter pad, shaking her head mournfully.

"It is one of my defining characteristics," Michael agreed, gesturing her out to the hallway. "Besides, I'm still half-convinced it's poisoned."

Philippa actually seemed a little offended. "I would never do such a thing." Michael shot her a disbelieving look...and Philippa smirked. "Don't get me wrong. I would absolutely poison a gift to someone else. But not to _you_ , my dear. I just want you to be happy."

Michael shook her head, awed at how Philippa almost seemed...genuine. "A fine distinction."

"And one you should be grateful for."

"Gratitude. That's exactly what I'm feeling," Michael said as she led the way onto a thankfully empty turbolift and indicated the ready room.

"I rather think it's sexual frustration, but I tried to help with that and you won't let me," Philippa said airily as the doors closed. "Really, I don't understand you, Michael. He's your sort, much more so than Tyler, and yet you still won't take advantage."

"'My sort,'" Michael repeated, dubious. 

"Noble, honorable, probably rescues kittens in his spare time," Philippa said like she was listing insults. "Tyler is far too practical for you, but you went for him, so what's holding you back now? Don't tell me you're still licking your wounds. Tyler wasn't even near your league, you must see that."

"There is nothing to be held back from," Michael said evenly, not wanting to engage on anything about Ash. Or Pike. Or anything about her love life.

Philippa studied her. "Is it Pike, then? His experience intimidates you?" she guessed. 

Michael stiffened; she'd never even considered that...but she was _now_. "No," she said, unable to keep the defensiveness out of her voice. "As I said before, what you're suggesting is inappropriate."

Philippa reacted like she'd agreed with her, going sympathetic. "Well, you won't gain any experience _not_ sleeping with him. Really, you should look at it like a bonus. You get to reap the rewards of others' hard work." She let the innuendo seep into that, making Michael flush. 

The turbo lift slowed, doors opening onto the ready room, Pike waiting for them. "Captain Georgiou," he said, nodding in greeting. "I'm not quite sure where Specialist Tyler is—"

"I'm here for a private update from Tyler, as Section 31's charter allows. Tyler knows that," she said like this was no big deal. 

Pike narrowed his eyes. "This is the first I'm hearing of it."

"If you have a problem, take it up with Leland," she dismissed. Then she smiled. "Now that the required pleasantries are over, I'll go meet with my agent. Oh, but before I do—"

Philippa looked to Michael, smiling fondly. Warning bells went off in Michael's mind. She sent her a quelling look. 

Philippa's smile just widened. She looked back to Pike. "You know Michael wants to sleep with you, right?"

Horrified heat swept through Michael, her gut dropping out. 

Pike didn't even blink. "Was there anything else, Captain?"

"Nope. Always happy to share intel with a fellow captain." And with that, Philippa swept out, the room utterly silent until the turbolift doors closed. 

Michael tried to control the embarrassment pulsing through her, making her breath short. She silently cursed Philippa—it was one thing to needle _her_ , it was another to involve the captain. 

After a long beat, she realized she wouldn't be able to avoid this, as Philippa no doubt intended. She finally met Pike's eyes, her heart pounding in her chest. 

His gaze held only sympathy and affection, not a trace of surprise. 

Realization slammed into Michael. "You knew?" Heat swept through her, followed by cold, the feeling of being exposed making her want to shy away. She didn't—this should be _private_. Hers to work out, at her own pace. 

She suddenly recognized that she was furious with Philippa for her presumption. This was _her_ life. 

Pike rubbed at his mouth, faint embarrassment there. "Asking me about relationships with subordinates, throwing your past with Tyler in my face, sending you a vibrator...I can put those pieces together."

Michael swallowed. Of course he could. She should have realized. He was incredibly perceptive about the things going on around him. How silly of her to forget. 

"I—" she started, not knowing what she could possibly say. 

He seemed to sense it, holding up a staying hand, moving around his desk, so much warmth in his eyes. "I don't want you to feel awkward, Michael. We can go on like this never happened, if you want to." He reached out and squeezed her elbow, smiling in some kind of wry sympathy, and then released her, striding out and onto the turbolift, the doors sealing shut behind him. 

Michael breathed _out_. What the hell was that?

***

 _If you want to_ echoed through her mind all day, repeating on a loop, Michael flashing back to Pike's look—warm, but still somehow inscrutable. What did that even mean?

***

"Wait, he touched you?" Tilly asked, interrupting Michael's recitation of events. 

"Yes, but like I was saying, the 'if you want to' is the part—"

"But he _touched you_ ," Tilly repeated, like that meant something. 

Michael frowned. "I don't understand."

Tilly shook her head a little, like she was frustrated, but trying to order this in a way Michael would get. "Okay, does the captain touch you regularly?"

"Not unless we're in danger and it's necessary to survive," Michael said slowly, not trusting where this was going. 

"But when he was telling you that he could ignore the news of your crush, _if you want to_ , he decides to put hands on you?" Tilly said pointedly. 

"I would hardly say he 'put hands on me'—"

" _Michael_ ," Tilly said, exasperated. "That was a signal."

Michael reared back. "If that was a signal, it was very unclear. Red angel levels of unclear."

"He was initiating contact because he wants you back," Tilly said, like this was obvious. "But he doesn't want to push it in case that's not what you want, so he's leaving it in your hands. _If you want to_."

"That is...completely contradictory," Michael said faintly, mouth going dry as her pulse sped up. She reeled a little even as Tilly's words made sense on some gut-deep level. Did he—could he...want her?

"Actually, I'd call it complementary. On one hand, he's offering to keep the status quo, but oh, by the way, there's another option and it involves getting naked and having lots of orgasms. You choose."

Michael flushed, the thought of the two of them together like that was...a lot. "Tilly."

"What? You know I'm right. The question is, what do you want?"

She took a breath, too much _feeling_ swirling through her. "I...don't know."

"I think you do, but you're scared of it." Michael looked away, not agreeing...but not denying it, either. 

Tilly sighed. "Look, I know Tyler being back is hard, that it reminds you of getting your heart broken, all the bad stuff. But there's good stuff, too. And Pike is—well, if there's a better man out there, I've never met him. This is a good thing." Tilly reached out and took Michael's hand, squeezing it encouragingly. "Let yourself have good things."

It spoke to something deep within Michael, the part of her that _wanted_ , that could still hope. 

Still, Michael shook her head. "Ash was a good man, too. At the start," she said, quiet.

Tilly softened, hurting for her, she could tell. "Yeah, we thought so. I encouraged you then, too, I know. But here's the thing: Tyler seemed like a good man, but he was an unknown. A mystery. There's nothing mysterious about Pike. The man is an open book, like, almost too good to be true. So I guess the question is...do you want to get on the same page with him?" 

Michael swallowed, something within her instinctively shouting _yes_ , even as she was overwhelmed at the idea. "How would I even do that?"

Tilly shrugged. "Use the language he chose. He touched you. Touch him back."

***

Michael watched him at the morning briefing, marveling at how nothing was different while everything was. He was exactly the generous, clever, kind captain as always...all of it overlaid with the fact that he _wanted_ her. 

That idea _burned_ through her. Her desire had always been there, at the back of her mind—or the front too often these days—but the notion that he was harboring the same thoughts, that he looked at her and longed to touch—

It was _distracting_. 

She waited as the briefing broke up, the others filing out, Pike stopping to grab his PADD from his desk. Seeing her chance, Michael reached out and took hold of his wrist, loose, but even so his skin felt hot under her fingertips. 

Pike froze, eyes widening as he turned to look at her.

She swallowed her nerves, tilting her head at him. "What we talked about yesterday, after Philippa. You didn't say what you wanted."

Pike stared, eyes gleaming. He turned his wrist in her grasp and took hold of her, bringing her hand up to his mouth. "Didn't I?" he asked, mouth ghosting over the palm of her hand, making her skin tingle from there all the way down her spine.

And that was just his mouth on her _hand_ , an innocent gesture. Michael's mind instantly went to what it would feel like if he touched her with intent that wasn't quite so innocent. 

She shivered. 

Michael pressed her open palm to his cheek, transfixed by his blue eyes. "I don't want to go on like it never happened."

Pike's hand covered hers, lacing their fingers together. "Then we won't."

"Just like that?" she asked, a little shaky. 

"Just like that," he confirmed. "Have dinner with me tonight. The mess hall, say, 19:30?"

"...dinner?" she asked, mind still on the feel of his mouth, what it would feel like...other places. 

He seemed to sense it, eyes darkening, heated. But he cleared his throat and shook it off, going contemplative. "From what I've gathered, your romantic life hasn't been everything you deserve and forgive me for sounding arrogant here, but I'd like to change that."

Michael swallowed thickly. "I don't know what that means."

"I know. But you will," he said, like it was a promise. He brought her hand to his mouth again, this kiss firmer. "Have dinner with me tonight, Michael."

Michael nodded, heart beating wildly in her chest. 

He smiled. "Good. And one more thing: call me Chris."

Heat flushed through her at that, which didn't make any _sense_ , it was just a name, but she tried to shove it away. "Okay. Chris," she said deliberately, the name feeling both forbidden and necessary.

"Don't worry," he said with some kind of secret smile. "You'll get used to it."

***

Michael marveled at how...normal dinner felt. Pike— _Chris_ —sat across from her, just like any other time they'd done this, only now he talked about the personal rather than work. He was funny, charming, thoroughly at ease. 

No one else even glanced at them twice. After having built it up in her mind, it was all so...easy. She kept flashing back to Ash, how everything had been so confused, Ash always pushing or hiding. This was the opposite of that in every way, yet the warmth in her belly was the same. 

Michael didn't know how to feel about that. 

"And that is how I met my future captain and one of the most decorated officers in Starfleet: by literally falling on top of him." Chris shook his head at himself, amused at the long-ago memory. 

Michael laughed appreciatively. "There's an image."

"Mortified doesn't begin to cover it. But Robert, there's a reason he's the best of the best. He was completely unfazed, just picked us both up and 'got us sorted,' as he put it."

"Meaning..."

"He had a cadet bring us a fifth of whisky and some ice. For our bruises, not the whisky."

Michael's eyebrows rose. "First you take out Captain April, then you get drunk with him?"

"Pretty sure it saved my job as XO," he mused, grinning, eyes lit up. "That was the first night I got frowned at by his future-wife, too, so it was momentous all around." 

She shook her head at him, knowing the disapproval was somewhat ruined by her smile. "You're terrible."

"Hey, sometimes it pays to just brazen your way through."

That tickled the back of her mind, sparking a thought. "Speaking of, I have a question for you."

Chris made a go-ahead gesture, warm and expansive. "Anything."

" _How_ do you fail astrophysics in Starfleet Academy? It's in the name."

Chris' eyes twinkled. "On a scale of one to ten, how much has that been bugging the overachiever in you?"

"There is no scale large enough. It makes no _sense_. You got As or A+s in every other course," Michael insisted. 

Chris shook his head, flashing one of those half-smiles. "You know, when I was little my mother said my grades would come back to haunt me. She's gonna be insufferable when she hears about this."

Michael flushed at the idea that he'd tell his mother about this, tonight, _them_. She kicked him under the table, playful. "You're avoiding the question."

"Would you believe me if I said it was a girl?" he asked, light. 

Michael narrowed her eyes. "No."

Chris tilted his head at her. "I choose to take that as a compliment."

"As you should."

Chris warmed a little at that, but it soon drained away, something complicated taking its place. "I actually tell people it was a girl; it's technically true and people appreciate it, like it humanizes me. Pulling perfect grades is admirable and lauded, but people also tend to treat you like you've got a stick up your ass."

Michael sighed. "Tell me about it."

He nodded in acknowledgment. "But straight As and one F? Well, that's a hit at cocktail parties."

"And on the bridge."

Chris tipped his head at her. "My Astro prof, he was a real piece of work. Old-school guy, a hardass, the rules were the rules, end of discussion. Generally, I appreciated the stance." He shrugged. "And then my father died two days before the final exam."

Michael stilled as Chris seemed to look inward. "It was an accident, very unexpected. My mom was a mess. She'd never ask, but I could tell she wanted me home." He ran a hand over his mouth, still affected, even so many years later. "Honestly, I was a mess, too. Even though our relationship was complicated, I still loved him." 

Then Chris shook it off, focusing on her again. "The final was forty percent of our grade and the rules said you had to be present for it, no make-ups, no exceptions. But even if I failed the course, I knew I'd still graduate. So I bailed. Went home, helped my mom with the funeral arrangements." He smiled a little. "I actually think my professor respected me for it."

Michael _ached_ for that Chris, grieving and still doing what was right, and for this one, turning his pain into an anecdote fit for public consumption. "And now you joke about failing, saying it was about a girl."

Chris looked at her evenly. "Everybody loves a little self-deprecation. And you can see how 'my dad died' might bring down the mood."

"Oh, I'm a master of that."

He half-smiled, appreciative. Then he opened his hands, inviting. "So tell me, do I pass muster, even with my tarnished record?"

Michael let a small smile lift the corners of her mouth. "You'll do."

***

Michael walked with Chris toward her quarters, slow, hands bumping every so often. She suspected that was purposeful on his part, but she wasn't about to complain, not with all the good feelings sweeping through her. 

This late, the halls were mostly empty, but Michael found she didn't even mind the idea that someone might see them. Chris seemed wildly unconcerned, solely focused on her. 

Dinner had been...perfect. She still _wanted_ , tangibly, desperately, but sitting and talking with him satisfied her on a different level. It was old-fashioned, this kind of dating, but she could see the merits in it. 

Michael turned just before her door, outside the radius in which the computer would open it for her. "I really could have walked home myself."

He smiled a little. "That was never in doubt. But now I've picked you up and dropped you off, making this a proper date."

"A first for me."

"So I gathered." Chris' eyes warmed as he stepped close. He brushed the back of his hand against her cheek, like he was seeing something remarkable. "I find you arresting, Michael Burnham."

She shivered, throat gone tight, too much want coursing through her. 

Chris smiled a little, dropping his hand to take hold of her own. He brought it up to his mouth, ghosting a kiss over her knuckles again, blue eyes holding hers. Then he released her and moved to pull away—

Michael instinctively grabbed his jacket and stopped him, leaning up to press her mouth to his, unwilling to wait anymore. 

Chris breathed _out_ in surprise, but then he tilted his head, returning the kiss. His arms settled around her, lips moving over hers, careful but obviously skilled, stealing her breath with the fire it sent tumbling through her. She wanted his mouth on her, his hands on her, she wanted to wrap herself around him and never let go. She _wanted_. 

He broke away and looked at her, eyes burning. "What happened to intimacy should be private?"

"I'm coming around to 'just this side of out of control,'" she breathed, hands tightening in his jacket. 

His eyes darkened. "Have dinner with me tomorrow night."

She pressed herself against his body, suggestive. "Or we could have breakfast."

Desire raced through Chris' expression before he shut it down. "Not that I'm not tempted," he murmured. Before he could go on, Michael kissed him again, flicking her tongue over his bottom lip. He made a soft noise against her, but didn't take the bait. 

That's when the door to her quarters opened, Tilly freezing at the sight of them entwined. Michael moved to pull away, but Chris just held her close, not perturbed in the slightest.

"Wow, sorry," Tilly said in a rush. "I'll just...go."

Michael looked to Chris, an offer: "She can go."

His lips quirked. "No need, Ensign. I was just taking my leave," he said smoothly, eyes never leaving Michael. "Dinner?"

Michael nodded and he finally let her go, tipping his head to both of them, one more small smile for Michael, and then he was off, headed back down the hall. 

"Wow, turning down a sure thing," Tilly said, marveling a little. "That's some self-control."

"Yes, it's very...admirable," Michael said, flat.

Tilly looked to her with a grin. "What's the matter, Michael? Want to admire something else of his?"

"Don't remind me," she muttered.

***

Dinner the next night went just like the first—easy, relaxed, intimate—and Michael couldn't keep her eyes off him, her mind away from what she wanted to be doing with him. To him. The heat inside her flared, ever-present, insistent. 

Eventually, she just called him on it. 

"Don't you want to have sex?" she asked, pitching her voice low so no one at the other tables could hear. 

Chris blinked, a little taken aback. But then he rolled with it. "Of course."

Michael gestured between them, then to the mess hall. "So this?"

"You know what people have lost with modern relationships? _Anticipation_." The word rolled off his tongue, suggestive, making her think of long nights, bodies moving together, mouths gasping. 

"I don't think that's true," Michael said, eyes on his lips.

He smiled a little. "Not always, sure. But the instant gratification obscures things. People want someone and then they have them without stopping to think if they even like them."

"I like you," Michael said, in case that was in question. 

"I feel the same. But there can be things in between that and hopping into bed."

"Like..." she prompted. 

He gestured between them, just as she had. "This. Dinner. Dating. Kissing. Have you ever just made out with someone like a couple of teenagers?" he asked, light. 

Michael blinked. "No," she said slowly.

"We should fix that, don't you think?"

***

Which was how Michael ended up on top of Chris on his couch, the two of them kissing messily, all-consuming. He'd lost his jacket, Michael leaning against his chest, hands framing his face as they kissed and _kissed_ , breaking off to breathe before finding each other's mouths again. It was sensual and sent heat pooling low and Michael never wanted to stop. 

Chris, too, seemed enthralled, exploring her mouth, fingers tracing over her arms, light, teasing. He made no move to push things along, reveling in their tongues tangling, wet and electric. 

Michael had never been kissed like this. It felt like _this_ was the point, not an obligatory stop along the way to sex. 

Finally, when her lips were tingling, Michael broke away to pant against his mouth. "I want my hands on you," she said, her voice rough. 

"Yeah?" he breathed, his pupils dilated, mouth red. 

Michael leaned in to take that mouth again, teeth tugging at his bottom lip. "Yeah," she whispered back, hands moving under his shirt boldly. 

He groaned and leaned back, pulling his shirt up and flinging it away somewhere. Michael took the opportunity to nudge him over so that he fell on his back on the couch, looking up at her, blue eyes hot. 

Michael perched on his thighs, hands resting on his chest, just taking him in. He was all coiled muscle under smooth skin, his light smattering of chest hair sprinkled with a few strands of gray. She scratched her fingers through it, getting a shiver, and smiling in response. 

He reached out to take one of her hands, lacing their fingers together and bringing it to his mouth. "This what you wanted?"

"Yes, thank you." Michael smiled and returned the favor, kissing his knuckles, then moving up to his wrist, his forearm, the cut of his biceps, mapping his body with her mouth. 

He groaned when she reached his shoulder, laving his collarbone with her tongue, her hands roaming, testing the muscles in his chest, teasing light fingertips over his flanks. 

Michael detoured to his mouth, kissing him long and slow, pulling away with a nip. "Is that a protest I hear?" she murmured, hands scratching over his belly. 

"Not even a little bit," he said, voice low. "I just didn't think I'd be getting to second base here."

"Second base," she prompted, curious. 

"That would be above the waist," he said, arching into her hands a little. 

Michael smiled and pressed her hands into his skin. "Then I think _I'm_ the one who got to second base."

Chris huffed a laugh. "Fair."

Michael sat up and tugged at the zipper to her uniform jacket, watching how his eyes tracked it, electric blue and widening a little when he understood what was happening. "I think we can do something about that." She shrugged out of the jacket, then tugged off her undershirt, feeling the heat of his gaze on her skin. She'd never felt this kind of power, like he was putty in her hands. 

She left her bra on and leaned back down to take his mouth again, sighing a little when his hands landed on her skin, teasing trails of fire everywhere. She kissed his mouth and then moved down to his chin, back to his chest, even as his hands explored her back. 

Michael sucked a nipple into her mouth, his body startling underneath her, a low groan torn from his lips. She looked up at him, surprised, then did it again, scraping her teeth over it and getting a full body shudder. His breathing had sped up. He liked this. 

She switched to the other side and got the same reaction, feeling another rush of pleasure at the power of it. She could make him feel this good. 

Michael leaned up to kiss him again, her fingers scratching over his nipple and getting a little gasp in response. "Really," she said, maybe a shade wicked. 

"God," he said, pulling her to his chest, taking her mouth. It moved her forward, shifting her hips over him, and Michael gasped just as he moaned, her weight settling over his erection. Chris broke their kiss to breathe out, his hips rolling like he couldn't help himself.

Michael panted, more turned on than she could ever remember, and they weren't even naked yet. She ground against him experimentally, leaning down to lick at his mouth, Chris making a high, helpless noise that sent a new rush of heat through her. "What's third base?" she asked against his mouth, shaking a little. 

Chris' hands landed on her hips, stilling her movement, breathing harshly. "There's some disagreement about that," he said, like he was trying to get some distance. "Generally, below the waist, anything from dry humping to handjobs to oral sex. But I think that centers penetrative sex in a way that doesn't make sense. Oral sex is still sex, after all."

Michael groaned into his mouth. "Okay, more doing, less talking," she said, trying to grind against him again, but he had an iron grip on her, not letting her move. She made an inquisitive noise, biting at his chin. 

"Hang on, hang on," he said, trying to get his breath back. "I really did mean for this only to be kissing."

Michael looked down at her position obviously, his hardness trapped between them. "I think we're past that," she said, dry. 

Chris flexed his hands on her hips. "I'm aware. But I don't want you to feel pressured—"

Michael leaned down to kiss him, tongue dipping into his mouth and skating over his palate, light. Then she pulled back to look him in the eyes. "I appreciate that, but we're not teenagers and the only pressure I feel is between my legs." His eyes darkened with lust as she continued: "So either you can touch me now or _I_ can touch me later, wishing it was you. Your choice."

Chris sucked in a sharp breath as those words landed. He blinked at her, pulling himself together to think it through. Then his expression cleared. "In that case, let's move this to the bedroom," he rumbled. 

Michael slid off him and stood, reminded of how wet she was, the slickness between her thighs distracting as she walked into his bedroom, Chris on her heels. 

He caught up to her by the bed, pulling her close, bringing their mouths together again. She pressed against him, moaning, suddenly annoyed by the clothes still between them. She broke off the kiss, saying into his mouth: "I want to be naked with you."

Chris took her mouth hard, the kiss fierce as his hands moved over her, unclasping her bra and pulling it away, then working at her pants. Michael groaned at the feel of his chest against her nipples and made a little noise of protest when he pulled away again—

Only to drop to his knees before her, taking her pants and underwear with him in the process. He helped her step out of them, Michael shifting back on the bed, his eyes tracking her from where he knelt on the floor, like he was too overcome to move. 

"Going to join me or sit there all night and stare?" she finally asked. 

"You gotta give a man time to appreciate a work of art," he said, low, as he rose onto the bed and crawled after her. 

Michael made a negative noise, nudging his pants with her foot. "Clothing ban in full effect, Captain. Off."

Chris breathed out in a laugh and pushed himself back, shimmying out of the rest of his clothes quickly, before moving back onto the bed. Michael got only a glimpse of more coiled muscle before he was moving over her, spreading her legs as he mouthed his way up, sending more heat to where she was already so wet. 

When he scraped his teeth over her inner thigh, she gasped out, " _Chris_ ," totally uncontrolled. 

"That's what I wanted to hear," he rumbled, quirking a satisfied smile at her. 

Then he bent his head and got his mouth on her, licking through her folds up to her clit, making Michael arch and cry out, her hand flying to his hair. 

He moaned against her, the sound shooting pleasure up her spine. Chris set up a rhythm with his mouth, licking around and around, then right over her clit, before moving down to tease at where she was so wet. Long fingers pressed into her, opening her up, her body fluttering around the fingers he pushed deep. 

It was sensory overload, Chris playing her body expertly, focused, like the fire he stoked in her was all he wanted to do. His fingers moved in her rhythmically as he flicked his tongue over her again, and suddenly Michael was _there_ , just on the edge, muscles trembling deep inside her.

"Chris, I'm going to—" Michael tugged at his hair, insistent. 

Chris made an inquisitive noise that she felt _everywhere_ and pulled back. He looked up, his face shiny with _her_ , eyes quizzical, waiting for her to explain. 

Michael tried to find the words, panting, head feeling fuzzy. "I want to come with you inside me," she stuttered out, somehow flushing at the thought even with her taste on his lips, his fingers still inside her. 

His gaze sharpened, going considering for a moment. Then his lips quirked. "Oh, we'll get to that, too." Then he bent his head again.

Michael cried out as he curled his fingers, tongue tracing up and around, right where she wanted him. He rubbed at some blissful spot inside her, insistent. The hint of teeth on her clit, followed by heated suction, set her off, the whole room flashing, all her muscles pulling tight as pleasure burst through her, pulling her under. And Chris kept _going_ , fingers and mouth moving, somehow making it go on and on and _on_. 

Heart pounding in her ears, Michael trembled through it, tugging at his hair again when it got to be too much, the aftershocks making her shake. He gentled, coaxing her through it, inexplicably making it even better, pleasure still radiating outwards. Michael had no idea how he was doing it, all she knew was she never wanted it to stop. 

Eventually he pulled back, resting his chin against her thigh, face still shiny and slick, eyes hot. 

Michael panted, still not all the way _here_. "How—where did you learn _that_?"

Chris smirked a little. "And you thought I didn't take my studies seriously."

Michael reached down to trace over his mouth, even her fingers shaking. He nipped at her, then lowered his mouth to her skin, mouthing his way up her body, igniting new trails of fire as he went. 

He kissed over her stomach to her breasts, spending some time learning the contours of her nipples, scraping his teeth there, shooting sparks through her again. " _Chris_ ," she moaned, arching into him, trying to get more. 

When he finally reached her mouth, she had curled herself around him as best she could, _wanting_. He kissed her, luxurious, like they had nothing but time. Michael tasted herself on his tongue, something about it making her quake.

Chris pulled back, tracing light fingers over her inner arms, tantalizing. "How do you want it?" he rumbled, voice rolling over her like a touch. She couldn't remember anyone ever asking her that. 

"Whatever gets you inside me the fastest," she said, feeling the gut-deep truth of it. 

Chris' lips quirked. "Yes, ma'am." He shifted over her, pressing one of her thighs up as he brought their mouths together. Michael reached between them, finding his cock, hard and silken, Chris groaning at her exploratory touches. Together, they pressed him against her, Chris pulling back to meet her eyes as he thrust into her. 

Michael breathed _in_ at the feeling, suddenly so full, nerve endings firing pleasure at her brain, overwhelming. It had been...a long time. 

He thrust all the way in, then stilled, panting against her mouth. "You feel so good around me," he whispered, dipping down to kiss her again. "So hot and tight. Michael."

Michael's hands gripped his back, digging in, " _Chris, please_ ," all she could think to say. 

"Yeah," he panted, withdrawing and thrusting in again, deep and perfect. Michael arched and mewled something, she had no idea what, but he seemed to get it, setting up a mind-stealing rhythm that sent fire up her spine, her senses narrowing to just him—the way he panted and called out her name, the smell of the two of them mingling, the heat everywhere he touched, fingers still moving over her skin even as he thrust into her. 

Soon she was shaking, her body fluttering around him, her noises more urgent. Chris seemed to get it, hitching her leg over his hip, thrusting in deep, kissing her again, then whispering, "Yeah, Michael, just like that." His fingers moved between them, pressing through her slick folds expertly, and it was too much, _too much_ , the orgasm sweeping over her, wave after wave of pleasure pulsing, Michael's whole body lit up with bliss. 

Dimly, she heard Chris groan something, stilling and shuddering against her, but it was far away, muted by the aftershocks rocketing through her, her muscles shaking, uncontrollable. 

Michael panted, sweat dripping down her body, trying to regain control. Chris seemed to be in a similar state, forehead on her shoulder, a sharp burst of heat against her skin every time he panted out. She could feel his heart pounding against her, fast and high, and Michael gripped him tighter, the two of them trembling together. At least it wasn't just her. 

Long, long moments later, Chris raised his head, his eyes finding hers. She made a soft noise and pulled his mouth to hers. Chris fell into it, sucking on her tongue, like he couldn't help himself. 

Eventually, he started to soften inside her and pulled out, both of them groaning at the feeling. Chris settled to her side, his whole body resting against hers, fingers stroking over the skin of her stomach. "Okay?" he asked, low. 

"I have never been more okay in my life," she answered honestly, getting a snort of laughter in response. Chris turned to kiss her shoulder. 

"At some point we're going to talk about these so-called men you've been sleeping with." His voice lowered to a silken rumble. "And then I'm going to spend some real time with my head between your thighs."

Michael made an unidentifiable noise. "Yes, please." 

***

Philippa materialized on the transporter pad, took one look at Michael, and smirked. "Tell me, how does my gift compare to the real thing?"

Michael gestured her out, not engaging. "I can't imagine what you mean."

Part of her was still angry with Philippa, but to show that would be to give her power, to let her know that she'd had some effect. So Michael controlled it, burying it under her usual impassivity. Vulcan training was good for that. 

As they walked down the hall, Philippa shook her head. "You should take this as a lesson, you know."

Oh, this would be good. "And what lesson is that?"

"I'm always right," Philippa said, like it was obvious. 

Michael couldn't help it; she laughed. "You would think that."

Philippa paused, leaning close. "Be honest, Michael: did you take him?"

Michael stiffened as her mind flashed back, wholly out of her control, realizing...she kind of had. 

Philippa seemed to read it, haughty and arrogant. "Exactly." Then she considered. "Is he glorious in this universe, too?"

Michael tilted her head, smirking a little. "You'll never know."

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.


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